


Blonde, Short and Sexy

by Itsasparkofgoldandscarletjoy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Basketball, Alternate Universe - Sports, Basketball, Fic Exchange, Gift Exchange, M/M, Sexual Content, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsasparkofgoldandscarletjoy/pseuds/Itsasparkofgoldandscarletjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock plays basketball on his school's team. When his eyes fall on the short but oh so appealing kid from the opposing team, he knows exactly what to do to get him out of his game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blonde, Short and Sexy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Southpauz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southpauz/gifts).



> This is for the exchangelock Sherlock au summer exchange! I wrote this piece for southpauz! I hope you like this :3
> 
> And I'm going to apologize if anything about the actual basketball playing is totally off because I never really played it and I only had the internet as a guideline so.. ^^
> 
> Have a fun read!

First match of the season! Sherlock smirked as he kicked his sneakers out in the locker rooms. "Hey Holmes!" Carl threw a pair of pants at his head. "Mature, really." Sherlock rolled his eyes and dropped the thing on the floor, glad it was a clean one. Carl snickered with his friends as Sebastian sat next to Sherlock, already fully clothed in his basketball outfit. "Better hurry up, white boy," he said affectionately. "Need to play in five minutes!" Sherlock took off his tight-fitting black shirt and replaced it with the loose purple jersey. His dark trousers made way for the black shorts and he slipped his feet into the well-worn sneakers. When he finished dressing, he caught up with his teammates, entering the gym.

First thing he saw was the vibrant red colour of the shirts of the rival team. Second thing he noticed was the boy who stood not even five foot six above the ground. He tried to stop himself from snickering. But seriously, this was hilarious. How could he even take himself seriously? Sherlock nudged Seb and tossed his thumb in the blonde's general direction. They both had a laugh, until the boy noticed. From across the gym, their eyes met and Sherlock frowned, not sure what had made him feel so grounded all of a sudden.

"Okay guys, gather up! First match! We need to win this! Everyone, heads up, the game is on!" All his teammates' hands met in a circle as Sherlock took a final glance at the boy in red. "Sherlock, head in the game! Come on!" Yes, yes of course. He joined in the usual battle cry and when finished, moved to get to his position in the field. He noticed that 'Blonde and Short' took his place as point guard - was to be expected - as Sherlock took his own place as small forward.

Now that he was closer, Sherlock could see the tan that tinted his skin in a most delicious way, he could see the firm muscles in his arms. Sherlock never had been one to deny his sexuality. He'd known since he was little and he wasn't ashamed of who he was. So as he let his eyes roam over 'Blonde, Short, and Sexy', he could have expected the punch in the shoulder from Carl.

"Oi!" Carl snickered. "We're here to win a game, not to ogle at the competition." "Hm.." Sherlock hummed, his eyes still trained on the boy not ten feet away from him. "Don't think he's that much of competition, though." He licked his lips, and grinned.  _Not when I_ _'m finished with him, at least._

There was a short whistle as the referee gathered the attention of all players. A second, longer whistle marked the start of the game. Their point guard, a short guy (but still easily two inches taller than 'Blonde, Short, and Sexy'), named Jeff, got hold of the ball first and Sherlock moved forwards, blocking the players from the opposing team that tried to get to the ball. He waited for a pass, caught the ball, and passed it on immediately to Carl. He had a little struggle with the other center at the basket but managed to score anyway.

Sherlock smirked because that really had been too easy. It always had been their advantage: no waiting to see what happened, just attack in the first minute and take your opponent by surprise. Worked every time.

"John, go!" Sherlock whipped his head around to see who'd been yelling and saw the ball fly from the bulky center towards 'Blonde, Short, and Sexy'. So he had a name, wasn't that nice. A smirk ghosted over Sherlock's lips as he moved back into position to guard his own zone. His time would come..

After sixteen minutes of playing the score stood 32-28 for the opposing team. 'John's team', Sherlock's mind insisted. The kid was truly incredible. He'd scored most of the points, long shots, and they were beautifully executed. Sherlock still had a mission, though. Their own point guard was having trouble keeping up with John and in the last time-out, they had decided that Sherlock would guard him, being quicker and, for a guy his length, extremely agile. That was what he'd been waiting for. Sherlock couldn't help the victorious smirk that spread across his lips.

John was in possession of the ball and Sherlock moved up to him, not hesitating at all to get into his personal space. He knew that his original purpose was to get hold of the ball, but this opportunity was far too interesting. He was so close he could smell the sweat that made John's hair stick to his forehead. As John turned, skilfully dribbling the ball away from him, Sherlock tailed him, chest to back, not quite touching but so terribly close. He huffed out a breath purposefully over John's ear. Then, when John didn't really acknowledge it, he rumbled in the lowest voice he could muster, "You alright, John?"

The little stutter in John's movement was enough for him to move swiftly around him and steal the ball away. He dribbled, passed the ball on to Sebastian, moved away from the opposing power forward to await the ball and score.

He looked at John and could easily spot the blush hinting on his cheeks and ears. He moved towards him again, this time making sure the ball couldn't be passed on to him, and brushed his fingers carefully against John's wrist. He could hear his breath stop for the shortest moment. "You're making this a little easy for me, don't you think, John?" John closed his eyes, opening again to refocus on the ball and the game. "Are you sure you're alright?" The smirk was too obvious in Sherlock's voice. As John turned around he was still pleasantly surprised to see his pupils were dilated.

"What do you want?" John's voice was wonderful, even in the bitten-back huff it was now. "I think you know what I want," Sherlock smirked, keeping his eyes on the game all the time. The blonde shot an annoyed look at him. "You could just want to win this game and distract me, for all I know, but I hope that's not it." It sounded frustrated in a way that made Sherlock's stomach turn with want. And that was absolutely perfect. "What do you hope for then?" The breathy reply was a short, cut-off "Halftime show," and then the blonde ran off towards the ball that was thrown in his direction and Sherlock wasn't quick enough to respond as John's voice echoed in his mind. He was sure they both knew exactly what John had meant with that.

Just one minute. One minute until the whistle would announce the end of the first half. There was another two points for John's team but Sherlock couldn't care less. He'd already won. With a mutual smirk, John's eyes met Sherlock's across the field and as soon as the whistle echoed around the room, they came up with excuses not to return to their respective locker rooms during halftime.

"Guys, I'm gonna get some air," Sherlock said as he ruffled his hair with a towel. "I'll join you," Seb immediately said and there wasn't really anything he could do about it. He'd tell him what his actual plan was as soon as they were out. Seb would understand. "Fine, come on then."

Outside the locker room, Sherlock didn't waste any time. "I'm getting my own halftime show." His friend frowned just for a second until recognition dawned on him. "Nice," he smirked. "Someone from the audience?" Sherlock grinned because, no, this was way better. "Point guard." "Jeff!? Gross!!- oh!" He cut himself short when he noticed what Sherlock meant. "Holy shit, how did you manage that!?" Sherlock smirked again. "I'll tell you later, no time to waste time." "Obviously," Seb answered with a roll of his eyes as he waved him off.

\--

"You are horrible." John's voice came from behind him and the warmth that hadn't been there before was drowning the taller of the two. Sherlock turned around to lean back against the cold tiles of a deserted locker room. John moved closer, licking his lips and eyes blown and so fucking sexy that Sherlock was scared he might explode. "I don't even know your name and here I am." the shorter said, his tone accusing but Sherlock wasn't sure if it was directed to him or John himself.

John came even closer, his breath tickling Sherlock's skin as he breathed through his nose. If Sherlock dared to look down he would be able to see the slight strain in John's red shorts already.

"Sherlock," he breathed in reply to a question that was never really asked, but it was lost between their lips clashing together, their tongues finding each other. It was beautiful and frantic and Sherlock could feel his own want building up inside his pants. John's hands tangled in his hair and pulled him down. A moan bubbled up in Sherlock's throat and John let it free by moving his mouth towards Sherlock's jaw, biting down, producing another moan. "How do you manage..-" Kiss. "..with only..-" Bite. "..a few words to do this..-" Suck. "..to me? Jesus Christ." Sherlock swallowed, and in response John immediately moved his mouth from his jaw down towards his throat, licking softly along the pulse point, making Sherlock arch his hips forward.

"God, John." They had eight minutes left. "Eight minutes," Sherlock managed to mumble. "Holmes, just shut up and take off your shorts." Sherlock's breath caught in his throat and a sudden fire erupted in his lower stomach. He wondered briefly where the name Holmes came from, but realised it was on the back of his jersey. As he rediscovered the function of his hands, he slipped down the black shorts and kicked them off his feet the last few inches. His hands moved to rest against John's neck. "Fuck, please.. please, John." He needed something, anything, and John's voice against his skin was only making it worse. The wanting, needing, desperate aching for more.

"Relax," John said. The change in his voice was perfect, the colours higher and sounding like hazelnuts. How that worked in his brain, Sherlock couldn't answer but it sounded logical. "Otherwise you won't enjoy it." Sherlock's breathing was still erratic but his muscles stopped tensing and as John's hand moved to cup his bulge through his pants, it managed to cause a shiver rather than an frantic thrust. Which was a welcome change. John kissed the spot where his shoulder and neck met and moved up slowly, moving his hand in the same slow rhythm. When he reached Sherlock's ear, he sucked in the earlobe lightly, then set it free again and breathed over it. It caused another shiver of pleasure in Sherlock's body and Sherlock could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

"John.." He loved that name. He had no idea why, because it was so incredibly ordinary but it was wonderful and fitted the blonde haired boy perfectly. He wanted to say it over and over again. "John," he breathed again, against John's hair. "I want you." John huffed out a laugh against his skin and even that felt amazing. "I really need to know your name because, god, I want to say it." John's voice had a rough edge, desperate but light at the same time. "Sherlock. The name's Sherlock." "Sherlock.." John turned the name over in his mouth, saying it again and planting kisses down the line of the jersey until he reached Sherlock's side, just touching skin with his lips. Sherlock had never before felt like this. "Sherlock, I want you too."

John was bent in a slightly awkward position and it only made sense for him to get to his knees. Sherlock's breath stopped as John smirked up to him, though, because, _yes,_ of course he bloody wanted this, but for some reason he hadn't expected it, had not wanted to expect it. The blonde kissed his hipbone through the fabric of his pants and Sherlock felt his hands move toward John's shoulders. He needed to be earthed because otherwise he would lose himself within the next two seconds.

Six and a half minute, his mind suddenly told him. He didn't want to know. Most of all, he didn't want to need to _rush_. He'd always been okay with rushing, quick make out sessions between classes, handjob during toilet break, no problem. But for some reason he couldn't put his finger on, this was different. And the lack of time wasn't a turn on but let out something frantic and desperate in his body which had been caged before this moment. He was holding on to John, afraid that he might disappear if he let go.

"Sherlock, can I?" Sherlock opened his eyes, unaware that they had closed and looked down at John. John's fingers were hooked inside his pants, already tugging down a bit to reveal the pointy hipbone. He saw John lick his lips and didn't trust his voice anymore. Sherlock nodded in reply and revelled in the feeling of John's mouth ghosting over his skin in subtle patterns as his pants were pushed down his legs. John's lips were dry and just on the edge of rough. "J-.. John." The desperate sound left Sherlock's lips as John's tongue flicked along the inside of his thigh. "I know, Sherlock, I know." The breath of his soft voice made every nerve end tingle. John inched closer and closer until he finally slipped his lips around his hard length and, "Fuck." Sherlock's fingers dug into John's shoulders. His eyes screwed shut. John was warm around him, his hand a colder presence at the base.

For a few moments he just let himself drown in the feeling. His breathing was dense in his lungs as John's tongue licked carefully around the head. Sherlock tried to keep still, tried to maintain a bit of self-control. He forced his eyes to open and looked down, immediately noticing the striking colour John's eyes had. His lips were turned up a bit at the edges and his tongue moved against the slid. It sparked a low grunt, rumbling from Sherlock's mouth and he couldn't help but thrust forward a little. John's hand ended up on Sherlock's hip, pushing him back against the tiles as he followed with his mouth.

He sucked, in a gentle way that Sherlock had never felt anyone do to him before. It had always been needy or rushed or without feelings, and even though this had started as exactly the same, it was different in every way. John dipped his hand under the purple jersey to trace the back of his nails over Sherlock's side, then the lines of his ribs, before moving to his nipples. His lips were still surrounding him and his other hand was holding his hip.

The heat started to rise towards Sherlock's head with every movement. He needed more. They had less than five minutes and he couldn't return like this. Sherlock's hand fell down from John's shoulder to surround his own cock, his thumb slipping between John's lips as the blonde took more of him in. "John," he gasped. He felt his own movements becoming less controlled, his hand sliding up and down, squeezing to make himself focus but not quite succeeding to. John's hand cupped his own hand and just that little touch made him unravel. That touch that meant 'I'm here, just let go. Trust me.' Sherlock turned his wrist at the same time John rubbed his thumb over his nipple and he was coming. The electric pulse shooting through him, his muscles tensing, relaxing, tensing again. He saw red and white blotches painting the darkness between his eyelids and he couldn't think.

Once he could manage to open his eyes again, he found John supporting him, holding him close, a curious smile on his face. "That was the most ridiculous thing.. I've ever done," the blonde breathed. His head fell towards Sherlock's shoulder and he planted a kiss. A lazy smile was Sherlock's response. He couldn't really manage anything else. "What do you say about continuing this after the game?" Sherlock smile turned into a smirk at John's proposition. "Winner gets to top?"

\--

If Sherlock let his guards down in the second half of the game a bit more often than strictly speaking necessary, it was completely deliberate.


End file.
